


Lost And Found

by Mums_the_Word



Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mums_the_Word/pseuds/Mums_the_Word
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Kate's death, Neal is floundering and Peter doesn't know how to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost And Found

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Treon for the beta.

      A year ago, Peter had escorted a sometimes reluctant and recalcitrant conman from Super Max and plunked him down into hostile territory in the FBI’s White Collar office. Neal made the best of it, or at least he pretended to, and began to cultivate amiable relations with the various agents who were not immune to his charm. He and Peter began to solve cases and produced enviable stats. Peter thought, all things considered and after some bumps in the road, that Neal was settling in and had at last found a home for himself.

      A year later, Peter was sure that Neal was lost to him on the Teterboro tarmac as the young man made his way towards Kate. A flare of hope blossomed in his chest when the conman hesitated and turned back, but then it was Neal who lost something irreplaceable to him as the plane exploded. Peter got him back after a brief stint in prison. However, the man who was released yet again into his custody was not the same one who went in.

      Neal’s affect was flat, his capricious wit extinguished. He didn’t seem to care about anything and refused to discuss his horrendous loss or his feelings regarding it. He aggravated Peter by constantly claiming he was just fine, thank you very much! What he really implied was “Back off!!” He went through the motions grudgingly but his heart wasn’t in it, and Peter didn’t know what to do to help.

      Neal did his job, but to Peter’s unending terror, took suicidal risks. Sometimes it seemed as if he dared the bad guys to end his life. After the latest incident where Neal pushed Peter out of the way of a bullet and was himself almost killed, Peter lost it. He grabbed Neal by the back of his collar and dragged him to the Taurus where he shook him hard enough that vertebrae may have been dislodged.

      “If you want to die, Neal, have the guts to do it yourself and not on my watch!” Peter shouted.

      The young man matched him glare for glare and strode angrily away. His suppressed fury exploded into action the day that he held OPR Agent Fowler at gunpoint. Neal was one step away from obliterating the man, consequences be damned. It was only Peter who held the power to talk him down. It was Peter who held on tight and refused to lose Neal as he spiraled out of control. But Peter had only won the skirmish; he was far from winning the war to salvage his friend.

      Peter consulted El, Mozzie and even the FBI’s in-house shrink for advice. He was told that grief can’t be quantified; mourning sets its own pace and sometimes even the mourner isn’t sure when they begin to hurt less, if they ever do. Peter tried to be patient and his patience took the form of being more regimented with Neal. He told him what to do and when to do it, and he better damn well obey.

      Unfortunately, the latest thing that he insisted that Neal do was attend the funeral of a young FBI agent who had been killed in the line of duty. Neal objected, saying he never even met the man, so showing up at his funeral was just ludicrous bordering on ghoulish.

      “That doesn’t matter, Neal. He was one of us, one of our family, and we honor our own. We show our solidarity and our respect.”

      “Um, I really don’t think that I qualify as part of that tight little family thing, Peter,” Neal cracked cynically.

      “You’ll go and act like you care about something or someone for a change, Neal.” Peter was unyielding.

      Neal scowled at Peter sardonically, but he did present himself in a conservative dark suit on the day of the funeral and, at Peter’s insistence, traveled to the wake at the agent’s home afterwards. The man had been married and had a three year old daughter. His death was a tragedy on so many levels.

      After a time, Peter lost track of Neal, but then found him in a back bedroom cradling the small child on his lap while he read “Goodnight Moon.” While watching from the doorway, Peter was joined by the young widow who took her sleeping daughter from Neal and gently tucked her into bed. She gave Neal a grateful, tremulous smile and invited him to join her out on the back porch. Peter felt like an intrusive fifth wheel, so he left them alone.

     As the afternoon wore on, people began to drift away back to their less angst-filled lives. Peter again went in search of Neal. He found him seated on a glider on the back porch. The fallen agent’s young wife was clinging to him like a lifeline and sobbing into his chest. Neal held her like a fragile butterfly, not saying a word, just gently rocking back and forth. But then Peter noticed that tears were also streaming silently down Neal’s face.

    As disquieting as it was to witness such heartache in the man he had come to care about, Peter also felt a sense of relief. He could only hope that perhaps now Neal’s pain would become more tangible, less locked away and less overwhelming. Maybe now the young man could let his walls down, if only briefly, so that he could grieve for what could have been, what he had lost in his life. And ultimately Peter hoped that Neal would find his way back. When that happened, Peter would be waiting.

 

    


End file.
